Hermione's Choice
by Slightlyoddkat
Summary: One stupid night leads to a choice. Two very different, diverging paths. Does she choose her friends? Or does she choose perhaps the most challenging adventure of all? Hermione is slightly out of character, but realistic for a teenage girl who's just been through a very traumatic experience.
1. Chapter 1

Hermione had made the most un-Hermione decision possible. A few of her former friends from her primary school were having a party. It was someone's 16th, and someone else's parents were off on a business trip. She wasn't too sure of the details. After the year she'd had, she wasn't sure she cared.

All she wanted was to forget about magic, Hogwarts, OWLs and the events at the Ministry for a few hours. That it also involved getting drunk with a group of people who had no idea what was going on was a bonus as far as she was concerned.

She sighed as she looked at her wardrobe. Lots of jeans and mum-approved dresses. Nothing that screamed party. Or, not that sort of party anyway.

She got her jeans out. Maybe they'd look ok with the right top? Her hand flew to her chest, feeling the ridged skin of her scar. No, she couldn't show that. She pulled out a T shirt, a blue one with a flower. Maybe if she tied it up? That'd work. She quickly got dressed, pinning her hair up with her wand. Her mum and dad were out for the evening, and wouldn't be back until late. Some charity do or other. Her mum had asked if she wanted to go, but clearly didn't expect her to.

If she put clothes in her bed and closed the light canopy that surrounded it, her mum wouldn't know. If she stayed out that long.

It felt good to be worrying about normal teenage things for once. No monsters, no Voldemort, no risk of death, just a party.

She turned the light out and left.

The party was only just starting as she got there. She saw Sophie, her old best friend and went over, gave her a hug.

"Hermione! You came!" Sophie exclaimed.

"This is Andy, and Nic, and over there, there's Jack messing with the hi fi. His dad's away for the weekend."

"Oi! Jack! Come over here and meet Hermione!"

Jack duly came over. "Hi" he said, sounding a bit nervous.

"Nice to meet you" she replied. A bit shy herself.

"Hermione's just back from her boarding school. Bit of a posh bitch this one." Sophie remarked. Hermione laughed.

"I'm not that posh you know. Got offered a scholarship and I thought why the hell not?" Hermione retorted.

She moved over to the alcohol table and snagged a can of cider. It was the tesco own brand variety and absolutely revolting. Not that she'd notice after a couple of cans. The whole point was to get drunk.

Jack came over to her. "So, how's things"

"Alright. Pretty quiet though. Not a lot to do round here really."

"Not unless you like fishing"

"Or swimming"

He had nice eyes, Hermione noticed. Hazel, and very pretty.

"You just done your GCSEs then?"

"yeah. You?" It wasn't a lie, exactly. She had just done a load of exams.

"Yep. If I never have to see another bloody equation again it'll be too soon."

"What are your plans? You doing A levels or?"

"Dad wants me to."

"And you?"

"I want to go to uni, so I suppose I should."

"Any idea what you want to study?"

"Nursing. Mental health. You?"

"Yeah, not that Mum would forgive me if I dropped out. Might do law after. I'm not sure though."

They were having to shout now. There were more people and the music was loud.

"Let's go to the kitchen" Jack yelled.

The kitchen was equally packed. Grabbing a few more cans of cider, Jack led them to the utility room. He pulled himself up on the washing machine. Hermione mirrored him on the tumble dryer.

"Good job your house is detached. Mine's a semi, and Mrs Bertram next door has ears like a bloody bat. Once came round to complain because my cat yowled for his dinner."

"She sounds fun."

"Used to babysit me when I was little. Her cabbage soup has to be seen to be believed."

Hermione opened another can of cider. Jack's eyes lit up. "Ooh I love this song. Fancy a dance?"

A bit tipsy, Hermione jumped off the dryer, stumbling as she landed. Jack put his hand on her back to steady her.

"Careful there."

They went out into the kitchen and started dancing, Jack putting his hands on her hips. They both had massive grins on their faces. It really was nice to just act her age for once. They stayed like that most of the night, just chatting and dancing. Like Hermione, Jack seemed to prefer grunge to dance music.

When people started to trickle home, Hermione stayed. She only lived five minutes away and she wanted to talk to him a bit more. It might just be the alcohol, but he was fit too.

As the last few left, mostly in pairs and drunk, Hermione flopped down on the sofa. Jack flopped down next to her, arm round her waist and stroking her bare midriff. She leaned into him and started playing with his hair.

"So," said Jack.

"So" returned Hermione, giggling slightly.

"You coming upstairs? Not to my room, if you don't want to. There's a spare next door. You can stay over, if your folks will get cross."

Hermione was feeling a bit reckless. Later, she'd blame the alcohol, although she'd only had a few cans of cider. She sat up and looked at him, taking in his hazel eyes and messy brown hair. "Yes" she replied. And she kissed him.

Jack led her upstairs, no one had really ventured much beyond the conservatory, kitchen and lounge. As they got to his room, they started kissing again. It wasn't very practiced or expert, but it was nice.

Jack moved to take her top off. She remembered her scar. Mostly forgotten, but she cringed.

Jack immediately stopped. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. It's just, well, I have a scar."

"I don't care." Jack replied kindly.

"It's quite big."

"Hermione, you're beautiful. Scar or no scar."

He bent down to kiss her again, and she melted next into him.

More articles of clothing were removed, until they were both in just their underwear. Then that came off. Jack rummaged in a box under his bed and found a condom. Opening it with his teeth, he slid it on.

A/N. In my world, Hermione is living in Brighton. A city on the South Coast of England, a couple of hours from London if the trains are running. The story is set between 5th and 6th year. The end of GCSEs, and before sixth form, college or jobs for muggle kids. The school leaving age in Britain is 16. You have to stay in education until 18 now, but that doesn't always mean staying at school.

I can confirm that the cider mentioned is bloody awful. It was, however a cheap way to get drunk. A staple of teenage parties everywhere. Enough of my misspent youth, and on to the next chapter!


	2. Chapter 2

When Hermione woke, she felt bloody awful. It was like a sledgehammer had been whacked around her head. She groaned and sat up. Then she noticed her lack of clothing. And the fact that this was most definitely not her bedroom. And that there was someone in the narrow single bed next to her.

She got up, and looked at the alarm clock on the bedside table. 6:30. At least she hadn't slept too late, she'd be able to pass it off as an early morning walk if her parents were up. Not that they would be at this time on a Sunday.

The boy next to her groaned. "Hermione? You still here?"

"Yep. Should be getting home though. Where's your bathroom?"

Jack got up and pointed her to it, lending her his dressing gown in the process. There wasn't anyone else in the house, but it was the principle of the thing.

He followed her down the hall, grabbing a towel out of the airing cupboard.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Other than this headache I'm fine. I enjoyed last night though" She answered.

"Take a shower and I'll get you some paracetamol"

Hermione laughed. "You're not a nurse yet, you know."

Jack stuck his tongue out at her and went downstairs. The damage wasn't too bad, all things considered. A few empty cans and bottles lying around, but nothing broken and no real damage. The conservatory was similar.

The kitchen, however was a mess. Someone had clearly dropped a beer bottle and left it, sticky mess and all. He stuck his feet in the wellies left by the back door and grabbed the broom. Having cleaned up the mess, he got a glass of water and a packet of paracetamol. He stuck the kettle on too. He needed coffee.

Heading back upstairs, he heard Hermione in the shower. He left the water and paracetamol on the windowsill on the landing.

Heading back to his room, Jack pulled on a T shirt and some jeans, and gathered Hermione's things. He folded them up on the bed for her and headed downstairs for coffee.

Hermione smiled when she saw what he'd done. He really was a sweetie. Her mum would love him. She got dressed, this time untying the t shirt. She sighed as she took in the mess that was her hair. Sleeping with it down did horrible things to it.

She tied it in a quick bun and headed downstairs to the smell of coffee. Jack had made a small cafetiere and got out the cereal. Checking the time, it was only 7, she decided to stay for breakfast.

She helped herself to the coco pops and sat down next to Jack. Feeling slightly awkward, she waited for him to speak.

"Feeling better?" he asked.

"Much thanks. You're chirpy this morning."

"Had a lie in. Usually up at 5 for work on Saturday."

"That's grim." she said, then stopped, thinking of Sirius. Her eyes must have betrayed something because Jack rubbed her arm.

"Sorry, just thought of a friend of mine. He died a few weeks ago."

"I'm sorry Hermione. Must be awful for you."

Fortunately, he didn't press her to speak further.

They finished their cereal and coffee quickly. Jack stuck the crockery in the sink and hugged Hermione as she got up.

"I really need to go. Mum and dad will be up soon."

"Here's my number. Dad got me a mobile as a well done for finishing your exams present."

He handed her a slip of paper with a number.

"I'll call you." she promised. And she would.

Hermione's parents weren't up by the time she got home. She got Crookshanks' food out and found him winding his way around her feet. She picked him up for a cuddle. He was a good cat really. He purred at her. Then pawed at the tin of food.

She put him down and emptied the tin into his bowl, smiling as he yowled appreciatively.

Sticking the kettle on, she started making a cup of tea when her mum came down the stairs.

"Hermione, is that you?"

"Who else would it be? Kettles on. Tea or coffee."

"Tea please."

Hermione bustled around making a pot of tea. She stuck some bread in the toaster, knowing her mum would get suspicious if she didn't have anything.

"What are your plans for today then?" Helen Granger asked her daughter.

"Not sure yet. The weather looks nice, I might read a book on the beach. What about you and Dad?"

"I thought it might be nice to go to Monk's House. It's beautiful this time of year. You can come too. We don't get to see enough of you."

"Sounds like fun. When are we leaving?"

"When your father drags his lazy arse out of bed!" this last directed up the stairs.

"All right all right! We don't all get up at the crack of sparrowfart you know."

John Granger came downstairs in his dressing gown. "Tea in t' pot?" he asked.

"Of course."

"What's that smell?"

"urgh. Which idiot turned the toaster up to max?"

"That'll be your father."

"Was not."

Hermione rolled her eyes and shook the contents of the toaster into the bin. She got more bread out of the breadbin and turned the dial down. She didn't fancy eating charcoal.

With a refill of tea, and buttered, non burnt toast, she sat in the kitchen and stuck the telly on. Apparently the government were being incompetent and lying about the extent of poverty in the country. Nothing much changes.

The family eventually got themselves ready and set off for the day.

Monk's house was as beautiful as ever. The house had an interesting exhibition on the history of female writers and the battle to get published.

The family spent time wander from room to room, reading inscriptions and talking about this or that, until growling stomachs reminded them of the time.

"You two want lunch?" John asked.

"Yes please. Shall we go to the pub in the village or somewhere else?" Helen responded. Hermione was still engrossed in one of the displays.

"Pub. They do a good fish and chips there." Helen nodded

"Earth to Hermione? Do you read me?"

"What?" she looked up from the display.

"Come on. Food. Your dad's starving to death."

Hermione laughed and joined her parents.

After lunch, they decided to go on to Lewes. They'd seen everything in Monk's house already. Hermione was thrilled. She'd loved the 15th century bookshop since it opened.

They spent the rest of the day just wandering through the town, looking at the ancient buildings.

Or rather, Hermione's parents wandered through town looking at the buildings. Hermione spent the afternoon looking at books. She found a few muggle books on medieval witches that she found funny.

She was stunned it had been so long, when the kindly woman who owned the place tapped her on the shoulder and said she was closing up. She'd found a good half a dozen books she wanted.

Armed with her purchases (and desperately wishing she could cast a featherweight spell on her bag), Hermione caught up to her parents in the street. They'd been wandering back towards the bookshop, knowing their daughter wouldn't have gone far.

"Many new books?" her dad asked.

"Just a few."

"Right, shall I put up a new bookshelf now or next week, when you've cleared out Oxfam?" her father asked sarcastically. Hermione didn't have that many books. Only a few hundred. Or maybe a couple of thousand at the outside.

"Why don't we go the whole hog? Put library ladders round the place and have nothing but books." Helen said.

Hermione beamed.

"Right, well that's your birthday present sorted then." John mock glared at his wife. He'd do anything to make his daughter happy. She might not have said anything, but he could tell something had happened at school. Clever as she was, Hermione was still only 16.

* * *

A/N

Monk's house is a real place. It was the home of Virginia Woolf. I haven't been, and the exhibition on female writers is but a figment of my imagination. It looks pretty though. The Fifteenth Century Bookshop is also a real place. The building looks fascinating from the outside, and I can quite imagine a teenage bookworm adoring the antiquarian books. The contents are based on a second hand bookshop near where I live.

My Hermione is a consummate bibliophile. Books are her life's blood. If she had to choose between magic and reading, her wand would be snapped in seconds.

I've written her dad as a Yorkshireman. He just feels like one in my head. If you notice dialect words, they're from Yorkshire. We do genuinely say sparrow fart to mean early morning. And the word the is usually just a glottal stop, especially informally. Southerners generally find the dialect impossible to understand. Americans question if we're actually speaking English.

A note on timings, to end with. I'm assuming for the sake of this story that Hogwarts breaks up pretty much immediately after the last exam. GCSE and A level exams usually end in mid June, so her muggle friends will have a long summer off too. The academic year usually continues until mid July in state schools, but you get a very long summer at the end of year 11. You need it too. GCSEs are hard.

Review if you liked it, and if you didn't let me know why. Constructive criticism is appreciated. How else do you develop? Let me know about typos too.


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